


blame it on the grand line

by jsjsjs



Category: One Piece
Genre: Angst, Donquixote "Corazon" Rosinante Lives, Fix-It, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, bepo is a wholesome bean, blood tw, canon-typical depictions of violence and mentioned canon character death, just a good old angsty time travel fix-it thank you very much, neither law is Having A Good Time, short chapters asdfghjkl sorry, wayy overuse of 𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘴 and dashes - sorry not sorry, yes this is a fix-it but it happens near the end
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:48:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25974697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jsjsjs/pseuds/jsjsjs
Summary: No matter how many times he tried to push them away, images of Flevance resurfaced.(in which 13-year-old law gets time zapped to a post-wano polar tang and chaos ensues, resulting in two thoroughly angsty trafalgars, twenty highly confused heart pirates, and later on, one wholesome dad rosinante).
Relationships: Donquixote "Corazon" Rosinante & Trafalgar D. Water Law, Heart Pirates & Trafalgar D. Water Law
Comments: 67
Kudos: 328





	1. in which the heart pirates just want to play poker, and the story is set-up

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, this is my first try at writing so any and all constructive criticism/ advice is totally welcome! This chapter mostly acts as a bit of a prologue :)

The New World is an unimaginable and vastly unexplored pirate purgatory. Some people find ways to adapt and cope with the insane climate of their sea and the frequently violent raids, but many cannot handle the severe conditions and simply crumble away to history. Nobody could predict just 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 the next island might bring, let alone how to handle it. There was one island in particular that this story centers around, one so difficult to track it hadn't been approached by humans in, well, really any number of possible years. This island was little more than a myth to those on the Grand Line, an often whispered yet little thought of fairy tale. Those who sought it out either came back empty or disappeared mysteriously, whisked away without a trace to nowhere in particular. Very few bodies were ever found.

Well, the heart pirates couldn't have known that.

All they did was follow their log pose, really. They had set out from their shared victory in Wano several weeks ago, passing by a few more peaceful islands and with nothing eventful in sight, and there was no way they could have comprehended just how minuscule the chances were that they slipped into the perfect little pocket of time to come across it.

■■■ - 𝑳𝒂𝒘

He was cold. God, he was cold. He shouldn't have been- the thick woolen cloak settled on his shoulders like a warm breath and despite the paneless windows the walls around him kept out most of the wind and snow. Yet somehow, he couldn't stop _shivering_ -

No matter how many times he tried to push them away, images of Flevance resurfaced. Broken images, wrong ones. Where he could reach his sister again but couldn't quite hear her little voice. Where he could once again see the dirty tears of desperation in the nun's eyes as she promised an escape, but where her face was cold and lifeless. White. He could feel the fire, burning and licking at his fingertips, eating away at everything in sight, red hot but he was still so _cold_ , why was he so _cold_.

𝘕𝘰. It wouldn't happen again. It couldn't. _Cora-san_ will _come back_.

He repeated it like a mantra, shivering uncontrollably despite it all, like a thing so important not the gods nor Doflamingo could stop it. He repeated it fervently as he waited with baited breath to hear if he would live to see next week.

_BOOM!_

....

...

..

.

■■■ - 𝑻𝒓𝒂𝒇𝒇𝒚

It was one of those nights where children curled deep into their covers and dogs howled; where heavy cotton clouds ruled darkening cerulean skies, rain hounding on everything in sight. Deep claps of thunder accompanied by frozen flashes of neon yellow light, and the waves were _lashing_ and _siezing_ and _screaming_ -

But beneath the surface, way, way, beneath, it was calm.

The heart pirates, oblivious to the shaking seas above them, were having their game night. Steaming plates of meat and rice shook as their owners slammed empty bottles of beer on the tables, yelling about who cheated who in the poker game and who _really_ deserved to win (apparently, Penguin).

Their captain wasn't really one for card games (Doflamingo had kind of left a bad taste in his mouth) but he smiled slightly as he downed the presented meal and watched Ikkaku chase a squealing Shachi around the room with a spider. After defeating Doflamingo, he had felt almost purposeless- but it was nights like these where his crew could just be unabashedly, totally _themselves_ that he was reminded why he hadn't died on that god-forsaken day. Law knew he had more important things to attend to, like the fact that Bepo had just warned him they were about to hit a very dangerous island (by the reaction his log pose was having), but he had already sent the bear-mink to the control room to begin ascension and there was little else he could do so he saw no problem in simply relaxing for a few more minutes. God knows he needed it.

Unbeknownst to them, the Polar Tang had just passed beneath a massive wall of curling, whispering mist. Even more unbeknownst to them, the Polar Tang had just passed into the borders of Reiko Island - the bay without time. Well, there was no way _they_ could have predicted that.

The heart pirates had let their gaurd down. So, who could blame them if, when a deep and sudden rumbling resonated throughout the room and the very atmosphere began to burst and sizzle, they did not react (how might one say it)- proportionately. As the air itself opened up with a sickening 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘬, spilling coruscant light and waves of unimaginable sound across the stuffy mess hall, most of them could do little more than stare and mutter a weak what the _fuck_.

Immediately alert, Law rose to his feet, sending a discarded bowl of stew splattering against the hard floors. He allowed his room to surround them almost instinctively, shielding his weak eyes (gods, he needed sleep) from the blinding light.

That couldn't be- _snow_ blowing from the gap?? What the fuck?? A frigid breeze swept through the confounded inhabitants of the room, barely noticable in comparison but enough to make the bones just _shiver_.

The crack grew to the size of a small human, the pulsating light and waves of sheer sound mingling with the dry snow and tempestuous winds, creating a true cacophony of sensation.

 _What the_ -

Then, just as soon as it had started- the fissure collapsed in on itself. Seemingly unable to sustain for longer than several seconds, the light simply... crumbled away, leaving a few sizzles and weak sparks of fiery orange before the atmosphere snapped into place, the only evidence of the phenomenon's existence in the first place being the arrant shock and confusion that displayed itself on the faces of the room's occupants.

That, and the little boy that fell from the air with a sharp, decided _oomf_.

His clothes were short and ragged, scathed in countless places and spotted with dirt, and he wore them under a thick brown cloak. His fluffy hat was far too big for his head, but looked like the only thing he was wearing that he had bothered to take care of. Most notably, his tan skin was covered in sickly white spots; splotches of dead, graying alabaster nicely accompanying the ashen skin beneath his eyes. Upon hitting the floor he burst into a savage fit of coughing, hacking uncontrollably as the dust settled from his sudden appearance out of literal thin air.

Several members of the heart pirates turned to each other, their disbelief and confusion apparent as they searched for some logical explanation to what just happened.

Clione stepped forwards hesitantly.

"...kid- are you okay? What's going on?"

The boy didn't bother answering, he was still attempting to gain control of his lungs.

 _"What-"_ cough cough _"the fuck-"_ hack _"just happened??"_

Murmurs of surprise, anticipation, and bewilderment echoed weakly across the room as pirate after pirate turned questioningly to one another other.

What many of them failed to notice however, was their captain; pale as a skeleton and frozen in place as if he had just

seen

a

ghost.


	2. in which nobody has any idea what's going on, and law probably needs some help

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a few little notes:
> 
> -if you're confused about what's going on near the beginning, i just wanted to write a bit about how much law looks like his dad because itmakesmesosadomg  
> -whenever i rewatch law's flashback i keep thinking he's like, six?? then i remember not only is rosinante nine feet tall or sth but i'm pretty sure law's growth is severely stunted from amber lead so he's very smol  
> -1/3 of this chapter- very confused heart pirates  
> -2/3 of this chapter- very angsty law  
> -both trafalgars swear up a storm oops  
> -enjoy the chapter!!

\- 𝑰𝒌𝒌𝒂𝒌𝒖 -

"Hey, kid? The hell is going on?"

The little boy had recovered quickly from his impromptu coughing fit, and was now frowning at the room, gaze flicking wearily between the crew members. Ikkaku judged by his height that he could be no older than nine or ten (how wrong she was), but his eyes- they betrayed a mind far more mature than that. Far _angrier_ than that. The young woman never wanted to see those gaurded, furious eyes on the face of a mere child again. They were hollow, as though despite granting the gift of sight they were little more than gaping holes gouged in the head. When he answered, his voice shook; perhaps from exhaustion, but Ikkaku couldn't shake the feeling that it was something more than that.

"You tell me, assholes! I was just minding my own business, whatever happened was _your_ fault- so you'd better explain this before I kick your faces in."

It was almost amusing to hear him say that to a seasoned pirate crew. Almost, because instead something in Ikkaku's heart _hurt-_ He was swaying on his feet.

The boy was clearly not in good health; ignoring the sickly white patches that covered most of his skin he was sallow and pale, and covered in various scratches. He stumbled briefly, struggling to regain balance and control of his feet as they threatened to betray him.

"Kid? Do you need some help? We've got a doctor on board-"

He physically recoiled.

It was just for an instant, a brief moment where the mask faltered but Ikkaku knew the entire crew had seen the way he just _shrank,_ those hollow eyes ringing with wild fear for a split second before he recovered himself.

"Uh..." Clione took a step towards him, hesitantly reaching out his hand. The boy slapped it away viciously.

" _Don't fucking touch me_ ," He snarled.

The pure vehemence in his words nearly made Ikkaku stagger.

What could have happened to this poor child? He was young and small, but everything about him was too _furious,_ at the world, at them, at whoever- it made her heart ache. No child should look like like this. No _child_ should see the world through those eyes.

He knew they had seen that split second of fear. He didn't want their pity.

"I _don't_ need a doctor." It was practically a hiss. "What I need is-"

The breath died jaggedly in his throat, as if cut by scissors.

 _Huh_?

Those eyes had grown wide as saucers. He made an aborted motion with one hand, reaching forwards to grasp at nothing in particular before he hastily drew back. The boy collapsed to his knees, dust settling around him as his throat constricted repeatedly. Ikkaku could feel others do the same as her when she followed his gaze to-

To their captain, who mirrored the exact same raw, pallorless visage.

What the hell?!

When the kid spoke again, there was... so much hope in his words. Too much hope for those eyes. Hot, white desperation.

"D- _Dad?"_

What the HELL?!

Law barely reacted, but the rest of them certainly did.

"Captain, what is he-"

"How do you-"

"WHAT'S GOING ON-"

The surgeon of death turned to them, his face pure blankness- too much blankness. Subtle desperation, hidden. He opened and closed his mouth for a few moments without sound.

"I- no. I'm not his dad. It's..." he trailed off, but his lips... upturned slightly. His eyes had finally gained some semblance of emotional recognition, which Ikkaku supposed was a good sign, but he was barely there, a faint trace of himself. "It's good to know I look like him, though."

Okay, somebody _really_ needed to explain what was going on.

"Uh, captain? With all due respect, _what_?"

No reaction, much to the exasperation of the crew.

The boy most definitely looked vexed as well. He had shaken that hopeless desperation out of his eyes the moment the words had been blurted out, aborting the motion to slap a hand over his own mouth but clearly unsettled. He was still practically swaying on his feet, and Ikkaku wished as she could reach out to him, ask him if he was _okay,_ ask him what had happened, but she remembered all too clearly how he had reacted the last time.

"Yeah, what the hell? I guess, uh... sorry I thought you were my father...?.. But if somebody doesn't explain what's going on right now I swear to-"

He paused momentarily, clearly struggling to get a handle on his emotions, before continuing. "Look, I was waiting for someone and if I'm not there, he'll think I've gone and died on him so if you ass-faces could just tell me what's going on and show me the door aND ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME..?"

To his utter indignation, nobody acknowledged what he said in the slightest. Their attentions were focused on their captain, who had collapsed back into his chair (defeatedly?) and was absentmindedly fingering the rim of his hat. The blankness on his face was carefully placed, and though an untrained observer might not recognize it, Ikkaku had been sailing with him for years- she knew something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong. They might have waited forever for him to acknowledge their existence had Clione not spoken up.

"Captain?? Do you know this kid??"

Law ran one hand through his unkempt hair, allowing the silence to stretch for what felt like a lifetime. He was barely present, stuck in some long-lost, snow-swept memory.

"I... guess so."

Um, okay then.

Ikkaku looked to Shachi, Bepo (who had come running back from the control room at the commotion) and Penguin- they had known Law the longest, maybe they had answers. The usually outspoken three remained oddly silent, staring at each other in a bewilderment liken to the man himself. Did they know what was going on?

"Listen, shit-face! I've never met you and this is getting creepy so someone had BETTER explain why this random, edgy wierdo thinks he's met me before!" The effort of putting that much antagonism into his tone must have strained the kid's system, as he erupted into another bought of wild coughing.

Uni leaned (stumbled) forwards and waved a slow hand in front of his captain's face.

"Listen, cap', we're all waiting for an explanation and you seem to have some idea of what's going on so if you could please-" he stopped.

The series of emotions on Law's face was frightening, to say the least. Blank bewilderment merged into deep _panic_ into fervent amusement, and Ikkaku had never seen him like this. He was their captain: calm, steady, and sure of himself in even the strangest situations. Even at marineford, he had maneuvered them out of that hellhole and immediately performed several hours of intense surgery without breaking a sweat- he was their rock. But here he was, utterly and completely _lost_ and they had no idea why or how to help the man they held so dear.

When he finally spoke up, it was practical hysteria.

" _I_ sure as hell can't give you an explanation. Although, just in case you're curious, I _can_ tell you that that-" he raised one shaky, inked finger at the half-dead,  
shivering,  
sickened,  
𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘳𝘺  
young  
boy-

"Is  
me."

..  
...  
....  
.....

It took a moment to register with them.  
...  
..

"EEHHHH??!?"

■■■ - 𝑻𝒓𝒂𝒇𝒇𝒚

They were talking to him, he knew. Faces blurred in and out of his vision- was he answering them? He thought so. All Law could really focus on was the indignant boy in the center of the room. Had he really looked so 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘳𝘺 back then? So small? So... weak? It was strange; he almost felt... bad, for the kid. Judging by how much of his tan skin had faded to gray and white and how his legs trembled where he stood, he couldn't have much longer than a few weeks left at best- and despite Law reminding himself that had he known what people saw of him back then he would have cut their noses off, his instinctive reaction was to pity the small, angry boy in front of him. Pity, and then, as he recognized the clothes his younger counterpart was wearing as the clothes he had worn on... _that_ day, came immediate, immeasurable fear.

He must have watched the scene play out on Minion a thousand times by now. Sometimes, he relived the exact same story over and over, beating his palms against the edge of the chest til they were bruised and bloody and his fingertips frozen solid as he felt gunshot after gunshot rattle the ground. Shot after shot tear through Cora-san's skin and he cried and bled and _battered_ but none of it mattered anyway.

Sometimes, he got the chest open, prying it apart with bleeding fingernails and vicious relief that maybe, just maybe, things would turn out okay until he saw what was on the other side. Bodies, usually. Doflamingo, Vergo, Corazon, everyone. He would press his hands against Cora-san's red-soaked shirt, willing his stupid devil fruit to do something - _anything_ \- for _him_ to do something (anything). But the blood never stopped running, little rivulets in the snow crunched beneath his feet, until the freezing, wind-swept landscape of Minion morphed into the dazzling white buildings and roaring cannon fire of Flevance.

No matter what, he always woke up in a cold sweat, struggling to breathe and gain control of his own vision. Sometimes, he got up and made a cup of hot, bitter coffee to calm himself, perhaps encountering a crew member in the mess hall. They could all suspect why he was there, but aside from the occasional weak smile nobody acknowledged it, and he would down the coffee before heading up to the control room to perform an unnecessary check on the Tang's vitals.

Other times, he would lie there til the sunrise, exhausted and _angry_ and with his face in the pillow, willing sleep to come but it _never did_ -

Oh, and he was always quiet. Not once, in any of Law's dreams of that day, had he ever been able to make a sound.

Law knew there were people articulating around him; he could see their confused expressions in his peripheral, but in his mind it was only a brief overlapping sequence of _feath erswh iteredf levance_ and goddamnit wh _ere was his noddachi_ he needed something to anchor him to reality he needed _cora-san_ or he'd be stuck in the same snow-swept, bl _oody memory forever_ thanks to that stupid lit _tle_ _boy-_

No. Ground yourself. This is the Polar Tang, this is safety. This isn't the ensanguined, frigid landscape of minion and Cora-san isn't here anymore. That boy wasn't him anymore.

 _Blackp inkwhi te **red**_ -

Breathe.

 _Vergodof lamingo cora-san **aishiteruze**_ -

 ** _BREATHE_** -

The air slammed into his lungs, an anchor drawing him back to where he was, to the chair he was digging his fingers so hard into they bled. Oh. He hadn't realised he could still breathe anymore. It was jagged, cut, but his tunnel-vision was fading and he could ground himself in the harsh lights of the mess hall and the voices of his crew (warbled at first, then finally clear- he hadn't realised he'd been blocking them out). Their faces came into focus too.

"-ptain, what the hell does that mean?"

"What are you talking about??"

"That... makes no sense?"

Law barely even knew what he'd said. Probably, he'd told them who the kid was. What was he supposed to-

"No, he's right."

The room stilled, as each pair of eyes swept to Shachi in turn.

Oh, Law realised dimly, the three standing across the hall would have recognized his younger self too. That was... a relief, he supposed. He wouldn't have to explain as much and could instead fixate on getting a hold of his own memories.

The redhead's proclamation was met with blank stares from the rest of the crew. Penguin stepped forwards slowly, thank god because Law himself really didn't have the capacity to.

"It's true, that's our captain. Or at least, a much younger version of our captain. That- that could only be at most a month or two before we met him." The man supplied, voice unsteady.

A month or two, ha. It was closer to a few days. His younger self wouldn't survive much longer than that.

"Uh, what?!"

Oh. Right, his younger self who was _right fucking here, right fucking nos_ , and would likely start to hit things if somebody didn't explain what was going on.

"Again, I've never met any of you and this is really getting creepy as fuck, so I don't know if any of you have noticed but there's no way in _hell_ that's me!"

Law forced himself back into his own head, forced himself to stay in the room.

He stood up slowly, taking the time to dust off his customary jeans (an unnecessary gesture but an instinctive one and somewhat nice for dramatic effect) and place his hat back on his head. His mind swam with unbidden images, but he needed to stay here, stay present, in this stuffy little room with twenty of his crew and an apparently time travelled version of himself.

He'd like to think this was a dream. He'd like to _think_ this was all just an apparition his sleep-addled brain had conjured up- that he'd soon shoot awake in his comfy little bedroom in the captain's quarters of the Polar Tang, wake up to the sight of neatly and chronologically arranged medical textbooks on the shelf near his bed and a growing ancient coin collection just beyond that. To the scent of Penguin's new, horrifying attempt at pancakes wafting through the hallways (it was a submarine, of course it was poorly ventilated). To the sound of Ikkaku chasing Clione around the engine room with a hairbrush, yelling about the chore roster.

But the way his fingernails dug deep enough into the palm of his hand to draw red, or the way his head _pounded_ or the way he had to ground himself by biting his tongue so hard it _hurt_ and his mouth filled with the sharp, metallic taste of blood- it was all real.

As he stood, every single head turned towards him. He collected his breath (and his thoughts, pulling a thousand different strings of memory back towards him, desperately holding on to them, he couldn't let go-) and spoke. Coherently so, for first time in nearly half an hour.

"Look, I- I can't explain how the hell it happened, or why, but that's-

Damnit, it was hard to speak when so many fragments of illogical memory were spinning in his head, but he desperately persevered.

"That's me. I'm sure of it."

He looked his nakama dead in the eyes as he spoke. He could see the gears turning as each of them stared back, tension palpable. No- more than palpable, it felt as if 50 tons of bricks had been dumped on his shoulders.

"Like hell you are! I'm not even supposed to live past thirteen, there's no way I'd ever make it to adulthood. You're just some edgy dumbass that looks like my dad, and I'm getting out of here before it gets even weirder!"

The boy was shaking with perspiration. His amber lead was in its final stages, and the fever would soon be reaching an extreme that the human body was incapable of handling. But he stood, trembling, angry, and so heart-breakingly _small_ compared to everyone else in the room.

"No, listen-" Law was cut off.

"I've never met you. You don't know a thing about me." His tone was frigid.

"Look, I swear that-"

"What was my sister's favourite colour?"

"-yellow, that's why I-"

"Lucky guess. Tell me, what's Cora-san short for?"

"Corazon, that's what-"

"Wh- but there's no way you could have... I... what did I get for my eighth birthday...?" He faltered.

"Beginners doctor kit."

"What, how could you have-"

His eyes hardened.

_"How did I get out of Flevance?"_

Law straightened abruptly. Marching across to his younger counterpart, he grabbed the boy rather unceremoniously by the cloak collar around his neck and brought him up until they were almost eye level, faces mere inches apart. He knew his own was tense with pent-up rage and pain, just like he knew the kid was doing his best not to flinch.

"I sat in a pile of _dead bodies for nearly two fucking days_ and it wa _s burning hot_ and _suffocating_ _an_ d by the en _d_ _I was so delirious I could barely tell aoart the nun's cold, dead faces,_ _n_ ow _listen to me_!"

The faint gasps from behind him at his words barely registered.

Aside from the donquixote family (offhandedly, he doubted they remembered), he had never told _anyone_ that. He vaguely regretted speaking it in front of his crew, but they could deal with that information on their own. He was busy doing his damn best to ignore the feelings of suffocation threatening to close in; of cold skin pressed against his own on all sides, of _hunger_ and _delirium_ and _nausea_ and so much _thirst-_

No. Push it _away._

"You..."

Law kept the boy's gaze. Up close, he could see just how bad shape his younger self was in. His cheeks were sunken and far paler than they should be, his eyes glassy and surrounded by purple underneath. He was covered in god-knows-how-many minuscule scrapes and bruises and his hair was matted and dry. More of his skin was covered in ashy white than not, and- and there was that incessant feeling of pity again. God, he wished that would go away. How he hated pity.

"You really are... there's no other way..."

Suddenly, the boy erupted into words, shaking his head fervently as he processed what was happening.

"You- but it's not possible! I must have run the calculations fifteen times now, and I _never_ get to live past thirteen. You don't have amber lead disease, and it's incurable! There's no way it just,, magically disappears, unless-"

The realization seemed to hit him like a ton of bricks. He went slack in Law's grip.

"...the ope-ope no mi."

Well, his younger self might be pitiable but at least he wasn't stupid.

Law set the feverish, dazed young boy onto the ground, none too gently. The surgeon in him dimly hoped that the child wasn't going into shock, amber lead would make that a bitch to recover from. But he didn't bother show his concerns, instead turning heatedly, pacing back to his seat and collapsing in it. He ignored his crew's stuttered attempts at sentances (not for the first time that day), choosing instead to focus on the boy in front of him.

Okay, so this was something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for some reason my device refuses to do italics normally so i have to copy and paste in each letter, it's not a lot of fun. still can't help overusing them and dashes tho, sorry about that!
> 
> djajdjgdajd i suck at dialogue
> 
> anyways, have a nice day!


	3. in which we blame it on the grand line!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so i'm back with another chapter!!! and, uh, hope you're ready for probably a little too much angst ;)

■■■ - 𝑳𝒂𝒘 -

The silence weighed on them, he could tell. It was heavy, and humid, and growing more and more static by the second, as everybody thought about the implications of what had just been said. It wasn't that nobody wanted to break the silence- it was that nobody _could_ , because nobody knew what to say.

Law himself was at a quandary. It was strange, to think that you were staring down an older version of yourself. Even stranger, though, was the sudden, gut-punching, queer realization that _he was going to live to see adulthood_. He had spent the past 3 years preparing himself for the day he knew he would die, and to suddenly hear that such a day would never come, it felt- 

Well, it was jarring to say the least. It wrenched him out of the walls he had put up in his mind, against the way he had sworn to himself over and over that there was no use finding people he loved if he was just going to die anyways, against how he swore to himself over and over that if he started loving Cora-san too it would only mean hurt. For both of them, and his time was running out. He had been selfish, he'd let the man that had become like a father to him in and despite the constant grating in his mind that _it doesn't matter, it shouldn't matter_ , it did, because it always did, because he was _stupid_ for letting it.

But here this perfectly healthy, albeit edgier-looking version of himself was telling him that it _could_ matter, that it might, just a little bit, and Law wasn't going to say he wasn't at least a little scared. Scared because as horrifying as it might sound, his upcoming death had almost been a comfort- because no matter how much the patches on his skin burned or his lungs itched to collapse in on themselves or his head pounded, it would all be over soon. Because no matter what happened to him or the people he was near, it couldn't last longer than a year or two. Because maybe it was stupid to cling to survival when the rest of Flevance had long since been exterminated, and all he represented was a dead legacy. Because maybe, soon he could see his family again instead. God, he _ached_ to see his family again.

So he was a little scared. Scared that once he was cured, Cora-san would leave, and he'd have no one to turn back to. Scared because now he couldn't know what would happen, and there was no more of the quick, meaningless end to the story that he'd been promised. Because yes, things could get better but things could also get so much _worse_. And he didn't understand it- didn't understand why he was scared because he had been scared, too, at the prospect of his death. Not of dying, but of leaving behind. He didn't want to hurt Cora-san, the man had already done _so damn_ for him and Law had _wished_ he could at least pay him back by surviving.

Well, now he supposed he could.

So Law didn't understand why no matter which direction he looked, whether that be to the past, the future, or god knows where-else, there was just _so much_ crushing fear. He wished he wasn't here, instead curled up in the feathery comfort of Cora-san's massive coat, feeling the distant sway of the ocean-rocked boat beneath him and the slight cold spray on his skin, where the fear could be gone for a split second. He wished-

"So... I guess we have to figure out how the hell this happened, huh."

It was the redhead that finally spoke up (the one wearing those tacky sunglasses), jarring Law out of his thoughts.

Huh. He supposed they did.

"Uh, yeah... if this really _is_ a younger version of our captain, I guess it makes sense that he'd show up here of all places, right?" A woman supplied, seemingly the only one in the room.

"Right..." silence, again.

"It couldn't have been a devil-fruit, right? I mean, we've been undersea for a few days.."

A few distant murmurs of agreement.

"Wait, maybe the kid-

I mean, Law-

I mean, the c-captain-

did something?"

Law glared frigidly at the speaker.

"I'm not your captain. And I didn't do shit."

"Then, uh... Law," he could tell everyone in the room was awkward with the use of his last name, but they hid it well.

"What exactly were you doing before you were- here? Did you... touch anything strange?"

Law nearly snorted at the way the words were phrased and the tone they were delivered in. He didn't need them to fucking patronize him, he'd probably seen worse things than half of them combined. Because of his desease, he knew he was much smaller than a thirteen-year-old should be so they likely thought he was considerably younger than he was, an idea that just made his skin _crawl_ with annoyance. He fixed the speaker with a sharp glare, opting not to comment on the way he spoke.

"Again, I didn't do shit. I was waiting for somebody. Whatever happened was _your_ fault."

God, he hated being short. Everyone was staring at him and he felt acutely just how _small_ he really was. And just how much his legs trembled, and how his lungs burnt. His hat was hot against his head and Law longed to take it off and pull a pale hand through his unkempt hair, but he stood his ground, glaring at anyone within range.

"Uhm... if I could interject..." this time, it was the bear who spoke up. He looked strangely nervous for someone larger than nearly everyone else in the room, and-

Wait.

Wait a fucking second.

_Hold on just one fucking second._

_The BEAR?_

Law knew the Grand Line was wierd as hell, but this was pushing it. For a second, he doubted if the hulking figure was even real- he knew it had been theorized one of the rarer symptoms of late-stage amber lead was hallucination. He'd never seen it, because barely any people he knew had ever survived to the late stages. Still, could his aching mind finally be failing him? After all the hope, all the fear, and all the crushing desperation and anguish, _this_ was where he finally lost it? With a fucking bear?

...Wait again. 

Cora-san _had_ mentioned something alone these lines, hadn't he? It was one of the later days, as the the occasional ray of sun penetrated weakly through jumbled clouds and cold ocean spray stung against his skin, the man had muttered some dumb phrase Law had never heard before (as he fell flat on his face after tripping on a rope).

Bored, Law had asked where the metaphor came from and Cora-san had explained awkwardly that Doffy seemed to have picked it up from somewhere on the Grand Line and Cora himself had just gotten into the habit of it, but that he believed it had originated from the mink tribes. After being asked sharply if he was going to elaborate on that, the taller man had murmured something strange about a group of animal-humans with the physical features of various mammal species but the ability to walk and talk like primates and people. At this point, Law had given up on trying to figure out what the hell he was talking about and turned back to fiddling with the ropes of their little craft, filing the information away into some background pocket of his brain to ponder another day.

Well, he supposed that day was today. It was easier, less terrifying, to believe Cora-san's insane story than to think the only thing he had left - his own mind - was finally evaporating as well. So mink it was.

"I'm not sure any of us did anything to trigger it...? My log pose, it's been going haywire for some time now and we _are_ finally approaching a very strange island, from what I can tell. I mean- the Grand Line is highly unpredictable, right? So maybe it has something to do with that? I... I don't know..."

That was the best explanation they'd had yet by a longshot, so Law could see the pirates considering it. The boy himself was willing to accept any half-baked logic so long as it found him a way to get back to Cora-san as fast as possible. (Because what if he _couldn't_ go back? What if the man who had just risked his life for Law came back and saw nothing more than mildly disturbed snow? What if he never saw Cora-san again, and so never got to thank him for saving his life multiple times over? What if-)

"I guess it might be... easier to just say that, wouldn't it?" Asked the woman.

Right. Shitty situation at hand, he would have to deal with the other crap later.

"Y-yeah..." Stuttered someone else.

He could see the gears turning in their heads, as they stared at him and one another with bewildered acceptance and blank acknowledgement.

"Alright, then it's settled! We blame it on the Grand Line!" The redhead finally declared, conviction weak but present.

Sure, he supposed that was possible for now. All Law wanted was _rest_. He wanted to curl up and sleep and be rid of this struggle and maybe just a little he wanted to _die_ now that death was no longer promised to him in some illogical, terrifying sense. He wanted to collapse to the floor and give up on forcing his strained, enervated limbs to hold his weight and slam his head against the wall until the pounding from deep inside of it didn't matter anymore, he wanted to reach in and pull his lungs out and chuck them as far away from him as possible so that maybe they would finally let him _breathe_. But sure, blame it on the Grand Line.

His struggle to even remain standing must have been apparent, as slowly, several heads turned to him.

"Law..." someone was speaking. Then again, someone was always speaking- but now his vision was blurring at intervals of every few seconds and his head was swimming with jumbled sounds.

"Captain, is he okay? Kid? Are you sure you don't   
need   
a

 _doctor?_ "

...

The inadvertent fear and anger that shot through Law the millisecond the the word reached his ears was surprising.

For the past sixth months, the word _doctor_ had elicited a bit of an emotional struggle for the thirteen-year-old pirate. Because on the one hand, doctor meant safety- it meant his parents, and the little medical haven they had set up, and the way he and Lami would sit for hours and watch patients go by and feel just so darn _proud_ of how their mum and dad were making the world a better place. It meant peeking over his father's new shipment of medical textbooks when he was younger, pointing out the diagrams and asking his mother to explain them (which she always did, with a slight smile and a patience that lasted far longer than her life did).

But on the other hand, doctor also meant pain. It meant the sharp smell of antiseptic mingling with the scent of burning wood and flesh, and it meant another blurry face pointing at him and screaming. It meant being less than human, it meant another town would stare at him and see little more than an atrocity, a small blip on the record of Flevance, a thing who's only purpose was to be exterminated.

It meant safety and pain and comfort and fear and laughter and _screaming_.

There were little things he wanted less in the world than to see a doctor right now. Law considered it a relief that none of the room's occupants had yet recognized his affliction- he had no doubt that if they eventually did, future self or not, it wouldn't go well. Somewhere, the back of his mind registered that they had probably seen the instinctive visual reaction he had displayed, like he was sure they had earlier.

He wanted their pity just about as much as he wanted to see a doctor right now.

"I don't need help." He spat, voice as low as possible.

"And don't call me _'kid'._ That's just as stupid as captain."

Law wished they would at least attempt to mask their concern and pity at him.

"Uhm, o-okay, just meant- nevermind. We're... trying to figure out the logistics of what happened, can you maybe tell us what day it was supposed to be for you? How old are you, anyways?"

Law let his frown grow even deeper. He hated it when people asked that, because he could always see the doubt in their eyes as they assessed his height against his words.

"I'm thirteen."

What was her name - had one of the others called her Ikkaku? - mirrored his own frown. He knew the words by heart before she even said them.

"Uhh," the woman laughed awkwardly, "aren't you a little small to be thirteen?"

God fucking damnit- Law felt the usual bout of annoyance that accompanied those words, augmented likely because he was now dealing with both time travel bullshit and excruciating, incurable sickness bullshit at the same time.

"Yeah, well, why don't _you_ try living with an undiagnosed chronic desease for most of your life and see where it gets you!"

Every voice in his head asserted that it couldn't have been her fault, he knew how he looked from the outside in, and there was no reason to be angry. But _how_ he hated being small. Everywhere Law went, he was already less than human, less than deserving of a second chance or a life to live. And when he was by far the slightest in the room, when everybody else towered over him and looked at him with such pity and quite literally belittled him, well-

It felt like shit. And it made him wonder if everyone else was right.

He barely bothered to note their confused reactions to his previous words. Perhaps they didn't know very much about his older self's childhood. It didn't really matter.

Law knew he was on the brink of collapse. Well- not that he hadn't been for months, but he had learned to push past that. This was new, come in the past few days. These were the final, crushing stages of amber lead poisoning before it actually took the life of its victim. Acute pain in the head and respiratory system? Check. Difficulty breathing? Check. The patches on his skin just _burning_ like they wanted to be ripped out of his arms, itching and searing and slowly, slowly numbing in a continuous loop of agony, relief, and paroxysm? Check.

Perhaps with this whole time travel debacle and his entire system being thrown into chaos, he wouldn't make it back in time to eat the ope-ope no mi anyways.

That was a terrifying thought (even more so than usual), because now he never even get to tell Cora-san _thank you_ before he died.

Law allowed his voice to soften to a scant whisper, bloodied throat welcoming the easy syllables as he spoke just to himself.

"Fucking hell Cora-san, I might die before seeing you again anyways."

He hadn't thought the words had been uttered loud enough for anybody else to hear, but he supposed his senses were jumbled and weak right now anyways. Because the blurry face nearest to him (the redhead, Law was pretty sure?) warped into a strangled expression at his words.

"Captain?" The voice was warbled and indistinct, and Law wasn't sure which one of them he was talking to.

"I... what is he talking about? W-wasn't this Cora-guy already dead when you met us? I don't think it could really be more than a few days from-"

His voice cut out. All Law could hear were those first few words as he struggled against everything his body was telling him to do.

Wh...

Cora-san... already.. dead.

Cora-san already dead.

It took more than a moment to register with his debilitated mind, the words simply swimming around, taunting him for several seconds before they fell into place.

 _Cora-san already dead_.

No! 

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no...... nonononononono.

They... they were lying right? He _hoped_ that his mind was failing him, rather then believing that at some point in the near future Corazon would be... gone. He hadn't met them yet thank _god_ but judging by their earlier words that day was coming sooner than he'd like- they had to be lying. Cora-san was too stubborn to die, let alone close to now! He was... he was too kind, too larger than life, too important. Everything Law had was already vanishing from his numb fingertips - his body, his mind, family and home long since been whisked away into oblivion - Cora-san couldn't go too, right? That...   
that   
just   
_wasn't_  
_fair_ ,   
Law thought giddily. 

He knew that his broken life was far past the point of being _fair_ but that desperate hope that Cora himself had infused so forcefully into Law's fever-addled brain hadn't let him believe that the man could ever go as well. It just... wasn't possible.

He couldn't be in the future. Because, there was no way world to come could hold that. Law wanted to force himself not to care, to believe that this was some sick fake-out being pulled, that that 𝘮𝘢𝘯 who looked so fucking much like his father could never be Law himself some day. But there was no use hiding from it, denying it- the look in the his eyes as he recounted the way he had escaped their shared city was too strangled, too _angry_ to be unreal. Law doubted anybody could fake that pure emotional display.

The man in question had his head in his hands, hat clenched between his knees as he processed the scene before him. Several members of his crew were knelt near him, struggling to speak and get a response, to gain some semblance of an explanation, some logic in this fever dream.

At his crewmate's words, he finally looked up, likely only recognizing the name Cora-san in conversation.

Law stumbled forwards slightly, knees shaking (but when were they not). He aborted the motion his hand made instinctively, trying his best to keep his own consciousness because it was _so much, it was all too much_.

Too much _hope_ , and _desperation_ , and _crushing, non-stop fear_.

Too much sickness.

Summoning all of his remaining emotional and physical capabilities, Law spoke.

"It's... it's not true, is it? Cora-san doesn't,,, he wouldn't.." his gaze was fixed on Trafalgar, allowing the rest of the room to fade away.

The look in the man's eyes said it all.

 _Too much_.

Law's eyes rolled back into his head, and he collapsed neatly to the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short chapter! also asdfghjklhs i have rewritten, revised, or reorganized the bottom half of this SO MANY TIMES, but no matter what i do,, the dialogue still feels contrived!! so i've decided to post what i've got, and hope it's not too obvious. anyways, have a nice day :)


	4. in which neither neither law is having a fun time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi!! i just wanted to apologize for the long pause between chapters, i've just been kind of busy and exhausted lately! but i've been slowly working away at this story the entire time, haha. anyways, i hope you enjoy chapter four <3

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

\- 𝑻𝒓𝒂𝒇𝒇𝒚 -

Law needed a drink. He needed one _badly_.

It was far past midnight, several hours since the dramatic incident. When the boy had folded like a sheet of paper and conked out on the ground, the surgeon of death had been pleased with the way his crew sprang into action. They had not one clue what was going on and he wasn't sure they would learn anytime soon, but they could still help a sick child keeled over on their doorstep. Shachi and Clione had hastily lifted the unconscious boy, barking urgent questions at Law himself to no avail. He had responded flatly that he could explain later, but that his younger self needed rest and that they'd be wise to transport him to the infirmary. Loyal bastards as they were, the Heart Pirates had ceded to their captain's wish, no questions (or at least very little) asked.

They had checked Tiny Captain's (a name Law flat-out refused) vitals and confirmed that there were, in fact, no immediate threats to his health other than a failing respiratory system, low blood sugar, a worryingly faint heartbeat, and intense signs of near lethal fever. Law had slipped out of the room, unnoticed, before he had to answer any questions from his crew. He really didn't feel like telling twenty new people about his childhood.

The surgeon of death had never told any of his crew about his past. Not many pirates had very happy childhoods; they had their baggage, and they knew he had his. Aside from the occasional weak expression of concern as he encountered one of his subordinates in the hallways after a particularly bad nightmare, they left that hornet's nest unpoked.

He had no delusions about Penguin, Shachi, and Bepo. They had figured out most of it at some point, he was pretty sure, but nobody felt the need to address it aside from the bear (who communicated a lot through hugs anyways). The nightmares had been considerably worse when it had just been the four of them, and what with the obvious white patches that still occupied his skin then, one could probably figure it out quite quickly with just a little careful research. But they had kept quiet, and so had he.

Now, everything that he had sought to keep under his skin for the past thirteen years had come back to the surface boiling, exploding back into his life in one _stupid_ , _messy_ , _preteen-shaped heap of trauma_. And Law was not happy about it. He'd been hiding from his crew for hours, curled up in some nook or cranny of the Polar Tang nobody but he or perhaps the other three original heart pirates knew about (and if they could guess where he was, they didn't tell), stuck in an endless spiral of annoyance, fear, sufficiently annoying amounts of angst and a fearful craving for alcohol. 

He thanked god for the existence of observation haki, so he could a) hide from his own nakama, and b) be alerted to it exactly when the boy finally woke up. Law supposed he'd have to talk to his younger counterpart when that happened, as much as that idea pissed him off further. The kid needed to know about Cora-san's death properly so he wouldn't just be left to wonder, and Law was pretty sure he'd want the disease out of his body the minute it was a possibility. Shit, this was all too complicated.

But...

Sometime in the blurry passage of hours, as the minutes slipped by uncontrollably and Law's headache was only worsening, something had occurred to him. They still had to figure out how the hell this had really happened (blaming it on the grand line wasn't going to do much good in the long run, especially as they had halted their ascension towards the surface in the heat of things) because now the main issue of the whole situation was, of course, how to get the kid _back_. It was all well and good to suspend disbelief and accept the idea that time travel was apparently a thing that happened, but then there was the problem of how not to royally fuck up not just his own younger self's life but also time itself. Once they figured out the source of these happenings, they would need to return his counterpart to the exact moment he had left.

Which was when it occurred to him. Maybe, god just maybe, in this conceivable happenstance world his younger self would hopefully be able to return to-

Cora-san could live.

And that was something too precious, too important, too _unfair_ , for Law's exhaustion-addled brain to even evaluate.

His head fell against the cold, comforting panels of the Tang's wall with a defeated groan.

Shit, and now his younger self had woken up.

■■■

\- 𝑳𝒂𝒘 -

Corazon could always tell, with dreams like these.

Dreams like the one Law was having right now- flashes of burning flesh and foul stench and sticky, oozing blood and famished flames, all against the background of Flevance. Cora-san could always distinguish the restless tossing and turning of fever from the anguished movements of plagued dreams, as Law's hair stuck to his forehead and he dug his nails so hard into his wrists they bled. That stupid clown would always shift Law over so they leaned against each other, and the agitated child could rest easy against the rhythmic motions of his torso. He would absentmindedly run his fingers through the boy's hair, humming quietly, kindly, assuredly. Law would always regain just enough consciousness to follow the melody and let the dying fire's warmth wash across him, before allowing it to soothe him back to sleep- this time dreamless yet content.

...

There was no Corazon here now.

The dream - no, it was too broken to be called that - grew deeper and more fractured with every passing minute, and he tossed and turned and ground his teeth in and th _at stupid clown_ _wasn't here_. All he felt were the scantly-developed memories of his family devolving into twisted screams. No calming breaths beside him, no quiet warmth or solid comfort. Or dying embers, or half-forgotten song, or hand gently gripping his shoulder, an anchor to reality. There was only fever, and temperature, and a discomfort he acknowledged both in his dreams and out.

Law shot awake in cold sweat.

Instead of the soft glow of dawn leaking in through their little craft's window or sliding across their small overnight camp, he was met with harsh, white lights. No soothing rocking beneath him, only solid ground and uncomfortably feathery linens. The walls weren't supple oak, they were hard steel and hundreds of neatly arranged textbooks and bottles of miscellaneous supplies.

_An infirmary?_

He hadn't been welcome in one of these since- well, since a very long time. Had they finally been successful in their quest? Had Cora-san finally found a hospital that would harbor him and treat the illness? Impossible. Law blinked dazedly, giving his eyes time to adjust to the blinding lights before sweeping across the room

That was when his gaze fell on the extremely worried-looking woman right by his bedside, and the pieces clicked into place.

Right, so that hadn't been a dream.

_Shit._

The woman raised her eyebrows at him, mouth forming a concerned circle. Up close, she had uncontrollably bushy brown hair and kind eyes, currently flooded with confusion and worry.

"Law! You're awake, how are you feeling?"

Well, his amber lead was still present, still aching in every fiber of his being, so certainly not good. Still, he was rested and finally had a semi-clear head.

"Uh." He replied unevenly, throat annoyingly raspy from a combination of sleep and sickness, "Better than before? What the hell happened?"

She smiled at his words, a little awkwardly.

"You passed out in the mess hall, about four hours ago. We took you to the infirmary and gave you basic treatments, but it didn't seem to do much for the fever. Our bastard captain slipped away before explaining anything, so we've been taking turns on watch. I just took over a few minutes ago. Name's Ikkaku."

He nodded slowly. It was weird, feeling comfortable in an infirmary again after so many horrible memories. Cora-san would steal general fever or headache and breathing medicine from the pharmaceutical stores in the towns they visited if he could, but they never did much other than relieve some of the discomfort for a few hours. Still, Law would always be grateful for how much easier the man had made his final living months.

"Oh." There wasn't much more to be said on his end, but Law continued. He needed to sort out what was going on, as well as precisely where and _when_ he had ended up. "This is a pirate ship, right? Or at least, you guys are pirates?"

She nodded slowly. Relief washed over him like a cool breeze.

"Okay," he bit out slowly, trying not to be as irritable as usual to the people that had treated him. "That makes sense consideri-"

"What's wrong with you?"

His head snapped to her direction. The words seem to have escaped Ikkaku's mouth before she could think, and now the pirate dug her teeth into her lower lip, clenching her fists tight.

"What?"

She shook her head.

"I- I phrased that wrong. I mean, why are you so sick? We've looked through all the medical textbooks we own and there's nothing that properly matches your symptoms, let alone whatever is going on with your skin. Most of us have decent training in medicine because our captain's a doctor, but not one of us could figure it out. What- what's wrong with you?"

Ah. Law should have known the question would come eventually, he just hadn't expected it so soon. The usual answer was ready on his tongue before he even noticed: aberrant form of flu, maybe a rare case of pneumonia, or just an irregular reaction to a fever treatment. Something along those lines But, he forced himself to think before opening his mouth.

These people were pirates. They were automatically opposed to the world government and its agenda. They seemed to hold a certain amount of respect - or even _affection_ \- towards their captain and so would probably be fairly tolerant of whatever they found out. It had been at least ten years since Flevance had burned in this world, likely quite a bit more, and seeing as he was the only survivor there wasn't much chance these people would either remember or even have heard about his affliction in the first place. They were on the Grand Line, not the north blue. If he lied now, it would complicate things later.

This situation was already crazy as hell. Oh, why the fuck not? Law took a deep breath, steadying himself. He was abnormally nervous, considering the kindness they had shown him so far.

"Have-" His voice shook involuntarily. He wished it wouldn't do that so much. "Have you ever heard of amber lead disease? Also known as white lead syndrome?"

Ikkaku frowned.

"Uh. No?"

Inwardly, Law heaved a massive sigh of relief. Thank god at least some of the people on this thing (they were on a ship, right? The room construction was familiarly tight but there was no calming sway of boat on water beneath him. He would have to find out about that later.) weren't subject to the world government's propaganda. God knows it had probably been years since someone spoke of Flevance in the light of truth.

So, Law began. Awkwardly at first, but in growing detail. He had no idea what it was- maybe the absurdity of the entire situation, or hounding pain and discomfort that was ever-present in his head and clouding his thoughts, or maybe just a little to spite his older self for nothing at all (for surviving?). But- he told Ikkaku everything. The woman listened with growing horror as he described the way the world government had covered up their lie with violence, how that violence had turned to revolution, and in turn, revolution to genocide. He told her quietly of his family's fate, sucking in his breath and trying solely not to not to lose himself in the tale, and he told her of how he had inadvertently hastened his own sister's death.

He didn't tell her of the Donquixote family, or Corazon - mainly because he didn't want to think about that right now. He wanted to push away the memory of his older self's broken look as he had demanded to know about the man, and the gut-wrenching, turbulent realization that had led to. He wanted the thought out, as far away from him as possible.

"Captain…" Ikkaku murmured softly, clearly to herself. The weight of what he had told her hung in the room.

Law bit his lip inadvertently, suppressing its trembling as much as possible. He told himself over and over that she could be different to the reaction he was used to - that all these people could - but unbidden images rose in his mind of pointing and shouting, and burning wood and violence.

Everything about this was so new to him. It had been a while since he had spoken freely of Flevance- and he didn't think that the soulless confession at Spider Miles quite counted. His circuits had been blocked by burning anger and misery, words meaningless. It felt oddly freeing, as though a massive weight had lightened just a little. And god knows she was taking it better than anybody else ever had.

Without prompt, or anticipation, or any warning at all, Ikkaku drew Law towards her, and settled her arms around his neck in a fierce hug.

"Wh-"

Law was immediately stiff in the embrace. His chin was resting on her shoulder involuntarily, and her hair brushed the side of his face, in a way that he hadn't been held in a very, very long time. It reminded him just a little too closely of his parents, and the way his father or mother would bundle him and Lami off to bed when they caught them sneaking out of bed, or to peek at their folk's work. It _hurt_ like hell, just how familiar the motion was.

Under normal circumstances he would have pulled back instantly. He didn't want, or need, anybody's pity and in the Donquixote family casual embraces like this might have been considered weak.

But he wasn't with the Donquixote family anymore. And maybe, once again, it was the agonizing familiarity of it all, or the fact that he had just told this complete stranger more of his past than he had nearly anyone, or literally everything else, but Law didn't pull back. Just this one time, he allowed himself to _sink_ into Ikkaku's arms, let the warmth of the hug sweep over him.

It was… nice, actually. To forget everything, forget the pounding in his head and esophagus or the burning of his skin, to forget what he had learned about the future or that the future had even arrived yet. Because sometimes, thirteen-year-olds aren't _supposed_ to be filled with this crushing fear, or desperation. Because sometimes, nothing could matter at all.

Because sometimes, even he needed a hug.

"Captain…" she murmured again. Law had no doubt she wasn't talking to him.

"Ikkaku."

The quiet voice came from the doorway, an unsettling reflection of Law's own. Both he and Ikkaku startled, immediately drawing back. He could feel her wince from beside him.

"C-Captain!" the woman exclaimed guiltily. "How long have you been there?"

The man in question smiled bitterly. Or, that isn't to say that the expression lacked warmth- it was just a mess of exhaustion and memory and much more than that.

"Long enough."

It was then, for the first time, that Law got a real look at his older self - it was quite off-putting, to say the least. And, being honest, a little underwhelming. His eyes were ringed with purple and his hair was tousled and messy, although those were more likely a product of the past few hours than anything else. His hat was similar to the one Law was wearing now, with just a slightly altered shape, and his jeans carried the same spotted pattern. His hoodie was dark blue, outlining the slim figure underneath and plastered with the symbol that Law's subconscious noted he had been seeing a lot of. And- the tattoos. Law thought _they_ were cool, at least.

Ikkaku leaned forward in her chair, grimace ever-present. "I- Sorry! Didn't mean to probe into your personal life, it was-"

"I just need to talk to the kid. Probe into whatever you want, it'd save me from telling the crew myself."

Ikkaku nodded abruptly, heaving a sigh of relief. She ceded to her captain's unspoken wish and hastily departed from the room, flashing him a worried look on her way out. Inwardly, Law groaned. His poor older self would probably have to deal with that for some time now.

Trafalgar's eyes followed her as she left, before he silently stepped into the infirmary. Law's fists curled inadvertently in the sheets, his body's instinctive reaction to the new presence in the room. Jesus- this man may be his future self but he still gave Law the _creeps_.

The pirate sat down next to Law, adjusting his own hat.

"Cora-san… he died for us, you know."

Law swallowed nervously. This was not a conversation he wanted to be having, not by a longshot.

"I- I know."

Corazon was too stubborn to be killed by much else. It made Law want to cry. Made him want to bury himself deep in the covers and never come back out, so that he couldn't be died _for_. Because that damn _stupid clown_ was just too important to lose as well and Law didn't want to let the idea sink in at all, he wanted it out, and he wanted to find Cora-san again and do everything he could not to let it happen.

"If- I mean, when we're able to get you back to the right point in time, you might have a chance to change that. One I never had."

Law nodded, once again gulping involuntarily.

"Good. I'm going to need you to promise to still eat the ope-ope no mi. Doflamingo can't get his hands on it at all costs-"

Law's frown deepened.

"What do you mean, still? I- wasn't it going to... cure me?" The words felt strangely heavy on his tongue. Trafalgar mirrored his own frown.

"Oh, right. About that. If you're alright with it, I was thinking it would be easier to just

cure

you

now

instead."

■■■

\- 𝑻𝒓𝒂𝒇𝒇𝒚 -

The look on the boy's face was nearly funny - nearly, because it was also excruciating to talk to his younger self and realise just what he had been like. And also because despite the decently calm exterior, Law's head was spiralling into a thousand different types of stress, mainly that _his crew was going to learn about Flevance,_ and that thirteen years later he had a chance to save the man that had been _like a_ _father to him_ , and that they needed to _figure out time travel_ for that to happen first, and that it was _still_ creepy as fuck that he was talking to a younger version of himself. He had survived well over ten years as a pirate, on the run from one of the world's most powerful enemies, escaped Marineford unscathed, survived Sabaody and Punk Hazard and Dressrosa and _Kaido last week_ and yet still, STILL, _this_ would be the death of him.

His younger self - and they really needed a proper name for him or this would continue being confusing as hell - took more than a few seconds to process the words, before it seemed to fall into place.

"I- what?"

Law wasn't going to sympathize with him. He knew better than anyone else just how much the boy disliked sympathy.

"My devil fruit. It's not as though it went away after I cured myself, and I've only grown more skilled. I could probably cure your disease with a snap of my fingers. You just have to promise to still eat the ope-ope no mi if- _when_ you return to the proper time."

The kid's eyes had grown wide as saucers, forehead furrowed in consternation. He stared intensely at Law, mouthing silently for a few seconds before finally speaking.

"You- You'd better not be shitting me right now! There's no possible way it's as easy as-"

"It is." Law kept his tone hard, his own gaze a flat mirror of those familiar, amber-flecked eyes. "Every single trace of amber lead in your skin and bloodstream, gone. Just say the word."

His counterpart scrambled properly upright amidst the mess of blankets on the infirmary bed, til his face was close to Law's, and the captain wasn't sure if the boy's laboured breathing was because of blockage in the lungs or the conversation. His trembling hands (also likely caused by a mixture of the two things) were half-raised, half-clenched, voice probably a smidge louder than intended.

"God yes! Get it the hell out of me as soon as you can! It's-" the struggle in his features was apparent. "I just-" the young teen shrank back a little, and when he spoke again, his voice was dejected and small. Too small. "After three years of hell, you'd think it wouldn't be that easy."

Good god, the last thing Law wanted to be doing right now was consoling a miserable thirteen-year-old - but life doesn't always take you where you wish it would, does it? The surgeon leaned forwards, and with the _utmost_ awkwardness, put one inked hand on the boy's shoulder. What the hell was he supposed to say? Trafalgar Law, infamous pirate, surgeon of death, and scheming new world criminal, was _not_ in fact very good at emotions. He'd never really been able to help his crew with all that stuff, and even if he found the occasional bit of solace in one of Bepo's literal bear hugs, he also offered very little information about his own emotional state in return. At least now he had the advantage of his conversational counterpart being someone he knew better than really anyone else. He took a deep breath.

"I- I know. Just as much as you do, I _know_ how shitty amber lead is. But this is the best way out. It'll only take a second, right?"

Weakly, the younger D nodded.

"Right."

Law smiled faintly. Okay.

He extended his tattooed fingers in the customary gesture, one he'd practiced so many times in the past thirteen years it felt as familiar as breathing or blinking by now.

"Room-"

As the blue light enveloped them, Law saw his younger self swallow in apprehension one last time.

...

_"Shambles!"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> who knew dialogue would be so darn hard to write, huh. anyways, hope you enjoyed, have a nice day :)


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